The bouncer opened the door. Haverford led her into a small room, dominated by privacy cubicles. Jasmine reminded herself, carefully, not to trust them completely. The planetary security services probably knew about the bar, even though they hadn't seen fit to shut it down. They might well have settled for quietly monitoring the establishment instead, watching to see who made use of it. She’d just have to hope they hadn't attracted too much attention.
It was easier last time, she thought. But then, we were sneaking down from orbit instead of registering at the gates.
A thin man - apparently in his early forties - was sitting at the bar, nursing a mug of beer. He looked up at Haverford, then nodded curtly and motioned to the stairs. Haverford nodded back and followed him up the stairs, Jasmine bringing up the rear. Her ears started to hurt as she passed through a privacy field, one designed to disrupt audio bugs. It should work, she thought, unless the bugs were hidden within the counter-surveillance devices themselves. It was a very old trick.
“General,” the man said. His voice was warm, but very composed. “Welcome home.”
“Thank you,” Haverford said. He glanced at Jasmine. “This is Barker, an old friend.”
Jasmine gave them both a sharp look, then started to check the room. There didn't seem to be any bugs, as far as she could tell, but that meant nothing. She didn't have enough equipment to be entirely sure they were unobserved. And who knew who Barker was really working for? He might be one of Admiral Singh’s spies.
I guess we’ll know if we get arrested tonight, she thought, sourly. She sat down next to Haverford, facing Barker. His face was too perfect to be natural, while his clothes were probably expensive. And even if we don’t get arrested, it means nothing.
“General,” Barker said. “Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?”
Haverford glanced at Jasmine. “This is Jazz,” he said. “She’s a friend.”
Barker nodded. “I heard you were killed on Corinthian,” he said, bluntly. “And yet here you are, alive.”
“Reports of my death were nothing more than lies,” Haverford said. Jasmine snorted. He leaned forward. “What were you told about me?”
“That you’d been killed heroically leading a charge,” Barker said. “There was a funeral and everything.”
“Admiral Singh is a liar,” Haverford said. “But then, I guess you already knew that.”
Barker studied him for a long moment. “I wouldn't say that too loudly,” he said. “Even here ...”
Jasmine met his eyes. “What is this place?”
“A place for secret deals and chitchat,” Barker said. “Totally secure, of course. The officer in charge of the district is on the take. Nothing gets reported out of here unless the owner gives the word.”
And I can believe as much or as little of that as I like, Jasmine thought. Corruption was epidemic in police states - people didn't rise to power in police states without a certain degree of self-interest - but she couldn’t take it for granted. This isn't a simple dinner between two crime lords.
Barker looked back at her, evenly. “And who are you?”
“A friend,” Jasmine said.
Haverford cleared his throat. “Do you still have that in with Director Mouganthu?”
“Yeah,” Barker said, slowly. “I was saving it for a rainy day.”
“We need an introduction,” Haverford said. “A way of meeting him, perhaps, without being observed.”
Barker’s eyebrows crawled upwards. “I would have thought your name alone would be enough to get you a meeting.”
“But not enough to be sure,” Haverford said. “Can you arrange us a meeting?”
“It might be doable,” Barker said, after a long moment. “But it wouldn't be easy.”
“We can pay,” Haverford said.
“I have no doubt of it,” Barker said. His eyes rested on Jasmine for a long moment. She had no doubt that he knew that she was a soldier, even if he didn't know she was a marine. And that would be enough to tell him where she was from. “I’m sure Mouganthu will pay too.”
He leaned forward. “I’ll have to make some calls,” he added. “Is there anything else you want?”
“Perhaps later,” Haverford said. “And you only get paid afterwards.”
Barker eyed him, sourly. “People should be more generous these days,” he said. “How much are you offering?”
“Ten thousand Trade Federation credits,” Haverford said. “But only afterwards.”
“Twenty thousand,” Barker said. They haggled backwards and forwards for several minutes before settling on thirteen thousand. “I need to make a couple of calls. Give me a moment.”
He rose and hurried off. Jasmine watched him open the door and vanish, feeling a cold shiver running down her spine. Barker was clearly smart, smarter than he let on. He’d seen a man return from the dead, a man his government had told him was dead ... and he knew, probably, that Jasmine had come from the Commonwealth. Admiral Singh would reward him beyond the dreams of avarice if he betrayed them ...
She glanced at Haverford. He didn't seem concerned. Jasmine hoped he was right not to worry. Being dependent on a single man - someone she didn't know and didn't trust - didn’t sit well with her. She didn't dare let herself be captured, not again. If Admiral Singh knew who she was, she would be assured of a very long and painful death.
Barker returned, looking surprisingly composed. “I called in a dozen favours,” he said. “I’m to take you directly to Mouganthu Tower. Give me a moment to arrange an aircar.”
Jasmine’s eyes narrowed as Barker walked back out of the room. “What does he do?”
“He’s a fixer,” Haverford said. “He ... organises meetings and contracts, all strictly on the down low. The type of man who can find a way to cut through a pile of red tape and get you whatever you want, for a price ...”
“Of course,” Jasmine said, slowly. She knew the type. “And he can get us an interview with Mouganthu? Immediately?”
“He has a good reputation,” Haverford said. “Mouganthu probably thinks we’re looking to make a commercial deal with him.”
Barker opened the door. “Come on downstairs,” he said. “The aircar is waiting.”
Jasmine followed him, feeling tense. The passageway seemed to be closing in on her. It was a relief when they reached the bottom of the stairs. An aircar was sitting there, its console blinking with lights. She moved to take the controls, then stopped herself. Wolfbane - and all other heavily-populated planets - didn't allow aircar owners to fly their own craft. The ATC system would handle the flying.
She leaned back and forced herself to relax as the aircar rose into the air, listening as Haverford and Barker talked in quiet voices. They’d been friendly, she realised; friendly enough to tease each other gently. She wondered just how they’d become friends in the first place, then decided it didn't matter. She had quite a few friends - and a lover - who weren't marines.
Tryon City was ablaze with lights, from towering skyscrapers and corporate towers to the brooding shape of the fortress. The building had surprised her, when she’d first seen it. There was no way Admiral Singh or Governor Brown had known about giant force shields, not when they’d started work on the giant fortress. But she had to admit it made a certain kind of sense. The fortress was in the middle of a city. Anything powerful enough to vaporise it would kill hundreds of thousands of innocents too.
As long as one’s enemies are squeamish, she thought coldly, the fortress has a perfect defence.
She felt a flicker of dark hatred as she peered towards the fortress. Admiral Singh had had an impressive record, once. Now she was a monster, as monstrous as the pirates or the terrorists she’d faced on a dozen worlds. It was clear, all too clear, that she’d turned Wolfbane into a police state, all the while using the planet’s population as her human shields. Admiral Singh had to go. There was no way around it.
But getting into the fortress won't be easy, she told herself. And th
e Admiral hasn't even returned to the planet.
“That’s Mouganthu Tower,” Barker said, curtly. The aircar altered course, avoiding the massive fortress. Jasmine could practically feel antiaircraft missiles tracking their every move, just waiting for them to do something stupid. Flying over the fortress would be the last mistake they ever made. “We’ll be landing at the priority pad.”
“Very good,” Jasmine said.
Mouganthu Tower slowly came into view as her eyes adapted to the blazing lights. It was immense, easily one of the largest buildings within view ... although tiny, compared to one of Earth’s CityBlocks. She could easily imagine thousands of people living and working within the corporate microstate, isolated from the rest of the planet ... it was Earth in miniature, once again.
And it wouldn't be a very comfortable environment for anyone who refused to toe the party line, she thought. The entire tower is a corporate fiefdom.
Jasmine sucked in her breath as she peered down. It was hard to be sure - her eyes weren’t adapting well - but the tower seemed to be rising out of utter darkness. She could only make out a handful of lights. There would be slums down there, she was sure; places for the poor, hiding in the shadow of their betters. Wolfbane might have adapted better than most to the post-Empire universe, but there were still poor and helpless people on the surface. They didn't have a hope of finding jobs, let alone a better place to live or a chance for a brighter future.
She glanced at Haverford, noting his grim expression. He was good at hiding his feelings, but she could tell he was concerned. Making contact like this was always a risk. Mouganthu had an excellent motive to turn against Admiral Singh - they’d discussed it often enough, during the planning stages - yet Mouganthu himself might not agree with them. If they were wrong, they’d be trapped ...
The aircar touched down. She gritted her teeth as a set of corporate guardsmen appeared from the shelter, weapons in hand. Barker opened the hatch and stepped out, keeping his hands visible at all times. The guards scanned him, patted him down and then motioned for Haverford and Jasmine to follow him out of the aircar. Their pat-down was professional, Jasmine noted. She couldn't help feeling that that was a good sign.
“Leave your weapons here,” the guard ordered. He held out a secure box. “You can recover them when you return.”
Jasmine hesitated - she’d rarely been unarmed since she’d reached adulthood - but she couldn't blame the guards for insisting. Haverford had already removed his pistol and dropped it in the box. Signing, Jasmine followed suit. The guards checked the weapons, then motioned to the door. Barker led the way, confidently. He’d been here before.
The guards kept a wary eye on them as they made their way down the corridor and into a giant arboretum, crammed with trees. Jasmine looked back at them, thoughtfully. They were very professional; their eyes watching for threats, their hands hovering near their belts, ready to draw their shockrods or pistols. She didn't think they were ex-military, but they’d definitely had some training.
And they’re presumably paid by the corporation, she thought. She’d encountered corporate security officers before, but they'd always been a very mixed bag. Some had fought well, some had folded when the going got tough, some had been little more than hired thugs. Their loyalties lie with their paychecks.
She blinked in surprise as she heard water trickling down from high overhead and splashing into a pool, crammed with golden fish. A small bridge crossed a tiny stream, leading into another copse of trees. The guards stopped, but motioned for the three of them to cross the bridge and enter the grove. Jasmine frowned, then stared as the trees parted, revealing a wooden desk. The arboretum wasn't outside the office, the arboretum was the office. She couldn't help feeling impressed as she took in the design. The desk looked as though it was growing out of the ground.
“Director Mouganthu,” Barker said. His voice was very respectful. “Please allow me to introduce General Haverford, who was reported dead, and Jazz.”
Mouganthu rose, slowly. He appeared to be about fifty years old, his brown hair slowly shading to grey. His face looked sagged, as if he couldn't be bothered either taking proper care of himself or getting cosmetic surgery. And yet, he held himself with a dignity that screamed Old Money. He was, as far as Wolfbane was concerned. Mouganthu Industries had been one of the original founding corporations, five hundred years ago. Jasmine’s own family could count their history back a thousand years, but they’d never been so rich or well-connected. Mouganthu was a man who was used to power and wealth.
And Governor Brown was able to work him into a balanced system, Jasmine thought. She wished, suddenly, that she’d had a chance to meet him. He must have been a very capable man.
“General Haverford,” Mouganthu said. His voice was cultured. He sounded almost as though he’d just stepped off a shuttle from Earth. “I attended your funeral.”
He looked at Jasmine. “And you are?”
Jasmine took a step forward. It was time to gamble.
“I’m from the Commonwealth,” she said. “And I come with a proposition.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
If he was forced to be honest - which he was, in the privacy of his own head - Director Herman Mouganthu would have freely admitted that he didn't like Admiral Singh. Her burning ambitions had been easy to see, even when she’d been kowtowing to Governor Brown. Herman admired the sheer nerve she’d shown in taking control, after Governor Brown’s unfortunate demise, but at the same time it worried him. Admiral Singh simply didn’t know where to stop. Ambitious people rarely did.
It worried him, more than he cared to admit to anyone outside his tight-knit circle of corporate friends and allies. Ambition was not always a good thing. Someone might rise high and determine to rise still further, threatening the power structure the corporations had built. An ambitious man, all too aware that the decks were stacked against him, might become a useful asset - or a dangerous enemy. Herman had squashed any number of ambitious men in the past, knowing they represented a threat. He had very few qualms about squashing Admiral Singh too.
But it might be difficult, he thought, wryly. She has a powerful force to protect her.
He kept his face expressionless as he contemplated his visitors. Barker was a man who had carved out a niche for himself, a man who was content to allow himself to be used as long as he benefited from it. General Haverford - a man who’d been reported dead - had been loyal to Governor Brown, something that spoke in his favour. And the newcomer ... she claimed to be from the Commonwealth. Haverford’s presence suggested she was telling the truth.
The newcomer seemed inclined to wait for him to break the silence. She looked patient, as calm and composed as if she were waiting on a parade ground. There was none of the supplication he was used to seeing, none of the half-concealed desperation from men - or women - who needed his help. Indeed, she didn't even seem aware of her own femininity - or how it could be used to win his favour. She was either incredibly confident in herself, like one of the female directors who didn't depend on him, or she’d had some very good combat training. Herman was no expert - he had people for that - but he’d bet a sizable fortune that she was a soldier.
“You say you have a proposition for me,” he said, studying the woman. She looked back at him evenly, something he found impressive. Very few women - or men - could meet his gaze. They were all too aware of how much power he possessed. “What do you have to offer?”
“An end to the war,” the woman said. Her ID card said her name was Jasmine. Herman assumed it was a false name. “And one that leaves Wolfbane’s social structure largely intact.”
“I see,” Herman said. She wasn't lying, he thought, but she wasn't being very forthcoming, either. He was fairly sure she wasn't a trained negotiator, let alone a diplomat. That made her an odd choice for diplomacy, unless something else was going on. The records his security staff had pulled from the orbital tower made it clear that Jasmine wasn't alone. “An interesting offer, t
o say the least.”
He leaned forward, curious to see her reaction. But she showed no sign of concern.
“I’m a busy man,” he said. His looming bulk normally intimidated people. He was torn between amusement and disappointment. “Shall we, as you say, cut to the chase? What are you offering?”
“The war ends,” Jasmine said. “Wolfbane either joins the Commonwealth or remains outside it, but with full trading and emigration rights. The remainder of your ... empire ... gets the same offer.”
“And Admiral Singh gets the chop, I assume,” Herman said. “Or should we just send her into exile?”
“We want her removed from power,” Jasmine said. “Anything beyond that is up to you.”
Wolf's Bane (The Empire's Corps Book 14) Page 26
